


Of Radishes and Dreams

by firesign10



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dream Sex, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Plotbunnies, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4212306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firesign10/pseuds/firesign10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam finds a bunny outside of the bunker. He brings it inside, where Dean (of course) laughs at him. The bunny is a perfectly nice bunny. Now if only Sam could figure out why he's having erotic dreams about Dean...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Radishes and Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinfulslasher (Gaby)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaby/gifts).



> Written for [Sinfulslasher](sinfulslasher.livejournal.com) for the 2015 [SPN-BigPretzel](spn_bigpretzel). Original Prompt:The boys adopt a cute little bunny rabbit that's huddling near the bunker's entrance. Little do they know that it's an actual plotbunny. Supernatural fanfiction will never be the same again.
> 
> Thanks to [Theatregirl7299](theatregirl7299.livejournal.com) for the fast and terrific beta! Thanks to [Amberdreams](amberdreams) for the gorgeous art!

 

Sam's legs moved slower as he jogged back to the bunker, returning from his five mile run. It was a gorgeous Kansas day--clear and warm, the sun shining in the deep blue Midwestern sky, birds singing and chirping. He felt good, almost back to full strength. He'd been laid up with some pretty serious cuts and claw wounds from the battle he and Dean had had with a pair of mated werewolves, but the stitches across his back were healing nicely, if a bit itchy. He relished the feel of the road under his feet, his muscles stretching and working as he ran, the way his mind relaxed until only his body moving and the air streaming past him mattered.

He became aware of the sweat soaking his T-shirt and running shorts, and how the heat of the sun was warming his damp skin. Deep breaths expanded his chest, filling his lungs; the freshly oxygenated blood circulated throughout his tired body. It was wonderful to give himself up to this, to merely _be_ , and he silently thanked the endorphin rush as he slowed to a walk.

Approaching the bunker door, Sam caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He immediately tensed, poised to defend himself, but it only took a moment to see it was just a rabbit. A little rabbit _he refused to use the cutesy word, bunny, he was too manly for that_ hiding under a spray of Indian blanket. He smiled--it really was a cute little bunny. _Dammit!_

"Hey, bunny...don't be scared." It was a very small bunny, probably just a baby, and he figured he must look like the Jolly Green Giant to it. He squatted down, talking softly to it. "Are you a hungry bunny? I bet I have some lettuce inside. Want to come in and have a snack?" He reached out a hand, palm flat and open, and waited.

The bunny crept over hesitantly. Sam thought that was pretty brave for a bunny to approach a human like that, especially a large human like himself. "That's right, bunny. Come on." The bunny sniffed his fingertips, then delicately padded its way into his hand. Its feet felt soft and tickly on Sam's palm. Its little pink nose twitched and it looked around with little black darting eyes.

"Look at you," Sam cooed, all concerns about manliness abandoned. He gently stroked the bunny's soft fur. It was white with irregular gray and light brown spots. One gray spot ringed an eye, and a large beige spot looked like a saddle on the bunny's back. "Okay, let's go inside now and see about that lettuce." He pushed all thought of how Dean was going to tease him about his new friend to the back of his mind.

 

***

"Dude! What is that?"

Dean stared at his brother, seated at the stainless steel kitchen. On the table, a small furry creature was busily munching on a large lettuce leaf. Sam was stroking its back with one long finger, murmuring to the critter as it chomped.

"It's a rabbit, Dean, what do you think it is?" Sam retorted in a huffy tone.

"A wabbit! Is it wascally?" Dean snickered, flopping into a chair. "Where's lunch?"

"In your dreams--I'm not your short order cook." Sam frowned at Dean before returning his attention to the rabbit, who had finished its lettuce and was now sampling a carrot stick. "I'm trying to think of a name for it. I just don't know if it's a male or a female."

"I have a good name--Cassoulet!" Dean slapped his thigh, laughing at his own joke.

Sam looked at him with a horror-stricken face. "We are _not_ naming it 'rabbit stew'! That's disgusting, Dean!" He cuddled the bunny to his chest, murmuring for it to ignore the big ugly ass in the other chair.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Fine, princess, name it whatever you want. There just better not be any turds here or in my room. And no baby bunnies either! That expression isn't just a figure of speech, you know!" He got up and walked out of the kitchen, deciding to go into town for food.

"There needs to be two rabbits for that, jerk!" Sam called after him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, bitch," Dean muttered, slamming the bunker door behind him.

***

Finally it seemed that the bunny had eaten its fill, so Sam scooped it up in one arm and brought it back to his room. He lay down to nap, the bunny seemingly content cuddled up next to him. Its warmth was soothing as he drifted off to sleep.

_Dean kneels before him, hands resting on Sam's widespread thighs. Sam sits back in the leather armchair, eyes riveted on Dean's face, hands clutching the chair's round arms. He stares at Dean's mouth as Sam's cock slowly slid in and out of it. Dean's lush lips stretch wide, shiny with spit. His eyes are wide too, staring at Sam's face, never shifting his gaze even when Sam thrusts a little harder. Sam's entranced by Dean's incredible mouth surrounding his dick; the heat of it, the pull as he sucks, the tantalizing tease of his tongue as it licks around the swollen head._

_"God, Dean...fuck, so good..." Sam breathes, barely able to enunciate the words. Dean hums and Sam moans loudly, one hand gripping Dean's hair, the other teasing his own nipples. Dean hums again, his mouth bobbing faster on Sam's cock. Sam can see Dean's shoulder moving, knows that Dean is frantically jerking himself as he blows his brother. It heightens his own arousal, knowing how turned on Dean gets doing this, and he feels his orgasm start to burn low in his belly. "Fuck...Dean, gonna..."_

_He tries to tug on Dean's head, pull out before he blows, but Dean shakes his head and tries to swallow Sam even deeper. Dean's throat convulses around Sam's dick, and that's all it takes. Sam's balls try to exit through his cock as Sam comes, ejaculating down Dean's throat, flooding his mouth. Dean chokes and finally pulls off, gasping while come dribbles out of his mouth and down his chin. Sam's cock tries to spasm again at the sight of his own spunk on Dean's face, but then Dean grimaces and groans, his head falling back and his chest heaving. Sam leans forward and looks down, shivering when he sees glistening white splotches on the floor and on Dean's belly._

Sam jolted awake, gasping as he immediately realized he'd jizzed in his shorts. His balls were still aching and his dick half-hard, the feel of the blow job incredibly vivid in his head. He shivered again, the after-shocks of his orgasm making his skin break out in goose bumps and his nipples pebble. _Fuck! What the hell was that?_ he thought, trying to catch his breath and clear his head. He'd had sexual thoughts about his brother before, growing up in the strange world they'd inhabited together all their lives, but he'd never experienced anything as vivid as this. And he'd never dreamed of acting on it.

He felt something fuzzy and warm next to his chest, almost falling off the bed before remembering his new woodland friend. The bunny was still cuddled next to him, regarding him solemnly with its little black eyes. Sam felt grateful he hadn't squashed the poor thing during his wet dream, talking softly to it in case it was alarmed by his movements. It seemed fine, though, so he swung his legs off the bed, eager to clean himself up. "Sorry, little fella, don't know where that came from." He looked at the bunny once more; something bothered him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He shrugged and head for the bathroom, keeping his sticky briefs pulled away from his groin.

It came to him as he cleaned himself up and got fresh boxers. The bunny's eye was no longer ringed with gray--instead, it had one gray forepaw. And the beige saddle seemed to have slipped back onto its cotton puff of a tail.

 _Naw...I'm imagining things. Spots can't change. I must have just not remembered properly._ He splashed water on his face, just to help clear his mind.

***

When Dean returned to the bunker, he thought Sam seemed a little jumpy. He looked startled to see Dean sitting at the kitchen table eating a bacon cheeseburger, and he didn't even comment on the greasy papers that Dean left there, when normally he would have nagged Dean to clean up his mess.

The rabbit quickly made itself at home. Sam had it with him constantly, toting the critter around in the crook of his elbow, letting it sit on the library table as he did research. Dean rolled his eyes a few times, but finally just ignored the new bunker resident. He did suggest the name Cassoulet again, further joking that they could then call it Cass for short.

The next time Castiel visited, he seemed distinctly cool and aloof. Dean just snickered.

He got a little bored waiting for Sam to finish healing up, spending quite a bit of time lounging around and surfing online. Apparently it _was_ possible to get tired of watching porn--who knew? He was idly clicking around to random sites when he remembered the high school that had created Supernatural: The Musical. He dropped by there to check up on the girls, but everything seemed fine.

Thinking about that made him curious; the writer had talked a lot about fanfiction and why people created it. While he hadn't been a big fan of Chuck's books, being that he wrote about their real lives, Dean did find himself curious what other people wrote about him and Sam. He decided to look into some fanfic sites and see what was out there.

It was truly an eye-opener. He read about them fighting dragons, tentacle creatures, and all manner of monsters. They died young, turned into vampires and werewolves, retired from the hunting life. They lived in Chicago, Mexico, all over the world. Dean was a mechanic, a chef, a teacher; Sam became a lawyer over and over again. The breadth of the stories was incredible.

And in the great majority of them, Dean and Sam were together. Like, _together_ together.

Dean didn't deny it to himself. He'd been in love with Sam his whole life. Somehow, as they grew up in secrecy and danger, fought together, saved each other, cried together, his feelings had shifted from just brotherly love to a more all-encompassing love. It didn't help that Sam grew up into the gorgeous, built man he was, but it was more than that. Dean knew everything about Sam, and he loved every bit of him.

He'd never tell Sam, of course. He never wanted to see the disgust on Sam's face, never wanted to deal with the repudiation that such a confession would undoubtedly bring. Instead, Dean found pleasure when and where he could, stuffing his feelings down and locking them away in true Winchester fashion. It was enough to live with Sam, hunt with him, share the mundane and boring days together just like they shared the heart-stopping danger. He might fuck around with anyone and everyone, but he'd never leave Sam. Sam was where Dean belonged.

***

Sam shook his head, wondering what on earth Dean found so fascinating on the laptop. _It better not be that stupid Busty Asian Beauties website again. It took me three hours to get rid of that malware last time,_ he thought with annoyance. He resolved to check the history later, since half the time Dean forgot to clear it, but right now it was late and he just wanted to crash.

With the bunny on his arm as usual, Sam retired to his room and readied himself for bed. The stitches were almost all healed up, but they hadn't been in any hurry to find a new hunt yet. Sam was enjoying having a little downtime--working in the library, catching up on old reports, and eating Dean's delicious cooking. _A guy could get used to this,_ he mused as he brushed his teeth. And seeing Dean lounging around in T-shirts, pajama pants, or that gray old-man robe he'd found wasn't a bad way to pass the time either. Sam sighed contentedly as he relaxed onto his bed; he was quite pleased with his new memory foam mattress, although he'd never tell Dean that. His brother would crow with delight and lord it over him all...

_Sam walks down the hallway of the crappy rental house they're staying in. He hears some odd noises and heads for Dean's room, checking that his brother is okay. He treads carefully, not wanting the squeaky floor to give his presence away to a possible intruder. Dean's door is slightly ajar, so Sam creeps up and peeks inside, knife at the ready._

_There's an intruder all right, but Dean's in no danger. Well, unless it's of suffocating from the large boobs his face is stuffed between. A naked young woman is enthusiastically pumping herself up and down on Dean's cock, hands on his shoulders to keep her balance. Dean is growling as he mouths her ample breasts, licking and gently biting at the pale mounds while one hand kneads her ass. She throws her head back and moans loudly. The slapslapslap of flesh smacking together is loud and juicy, and now Sam knows what those noises were._

_He should leave immediately, but he's frozen. He's seen Dean naked, but as a matter of course when two males share tight quarters. This...this is different. This is Dean with a shiny mouth swollen from kissing and sucking; a Dean whose pale-skinned chest is pink with sex-flush, while curses and filth fall from those puffy lips in between grunts and groans. Sam had imagined Dean during sex before, but to see him in actuality--even Sam's most fevered fantasies fall far short of the truth. This Dean is sex personified, and it smacks Sam right in the groin, where his cock instantly demands to be freed from its denim cage._

_He scarcely realizes that his hand is pulling his zipper down, that he's taking himself in hand even as his eyes are glued to the tableau in front of him. His breathing is short; it feels like he can hardly breathe at all, so consumed by what's happening a few yards away. The woman grinds herself down now, uttering long moans as she rotates her hips while impaled on Dean's dick. Dean releases her ass to cup her tits, crushing them together so he can try cramming both nipples into his mouth at once. He doesn't succeed--her boobs are too big--but he busily sucks and nips them, turning quickly from one to the other until she arches her back with a cry, clamping one hand behind his head to lock him in place. He chuckles, opening his mouth to suck in as much tit as he can, then repeats it with the other._

_"Fuck!" she yells. "Oh my God, Dean...oh, fuck me! Gonna come, so close..." Her words trail off into squeals as he bucks his hips up, fucking up into her hard and making her boobs bounce madly in his face."Uh, uh, uhhhhh...yeah, there, there...oooooh!" With a long, loud cry, she pushes herself down on him. He grabs her ass to keep her in place, his hips still moving, jaw clenched. She's still writhing as he shouts and buries his face in her tits, his belly convulsing with the force of his ejaculation._

__Shit, it's his O face...I'm seeing Dean's O face. _Sam's hand strips his cock furiously, his mouth dry and his mind blown. He could jack off to this for the rest of his life and never get tired of it. And it's all from Dean. Sure, she's hot, and Sam would hit that, oh yes. But it's Dean, sweaty sexy Dean, that fills Sam's senses--the sheen on Dean's skin, the deep red of his lips, the slap of Dean's body as he fucks her, the smell of Dean's come mixed with the scent of her pussy hanging richly in the air._

_She collapses onto Dean, while he sags against the headboard behind him. They're panting loudly, still shuddering from the aftershocks. Sam sinks down against the doorjamb until he hits the floor, eyes closing but with the images still burned into them. They play again and again while he jerks himself hard, his other hand sneaking into his shorts to roll his balls. His thumb runs over the head of his cock, smearing the beads of pre-come welling up, and the additional slickness just ramps up the stimulation until he blows. Biting his lip to keep from making a sound, he curls up as he shoots, silently gasping for air as his lungs forget how to inflate. The next jolt flings his head back until it thumps on the jamb. His hand is full of spunk, a thick mess coating his fingers, his cock, seeping into his pubes and down his balls._

_"Did you hear something?" He hears Dean whisper, and God, he can't catch Sam here, holding his still-hard, jizz-slicked dick inside half-lowered boxers. Even as the throes of his orgasm are making him tremble, Sam manages to crawl away, inching across the floor to his room, where he hopes he can make it onto the bed before he falls apart._

 

Sam just about fell off the bed, he started up from sleep so suddenly. He cursed as he realized that, yet again, he'd come in his boxer briefs. He was a total mess, with cold, gloppy spooge stuck all over his pubes and privates. _What the fuck is going on with me?_ he wondered, making his way into the shower. He got in the hot water, boxers and all, knowing that it was the only way to get the fabric off his tender bits without losing any skin in the process.

Clean and dressed, Sam and the bunny entered the kitchen. Dean was scrambling up some eggs, and a plate of bacon sat on the table. The laptop was open, so Sam sat down at it, checking out the screen to see if Dean had found a hunt.

Instead, the screen read **wincest_is_best**. His jaw dropped, and he checked the address bar. It read **wincest_is_best.livejournal.com**. The picture on the screen was...was them. Only a them in bed together, naked from the waist up, Dean's head on Sam's shoulder, Sam's arm under Dean's neck. Underneath that, it read "All wincest, all the time. Brothers, lovers, soulmates forever."

"Uh, Dean? What is this?" Sam's voice was distressingly high, and he cleared his throat. "I mean, uh, is this some kind of research?"

Dean brought the eggs to the table, splitting them between two plates. "Your little familiar there want some?"

Sam said stiffly, "He's not my familiar. His name is Radish." He looked at Radish, who was sniffing around the plate. His eyes widened.

Dean sat down. "What's up? I know that look." He too looked at the rabbit.

"His spots...they changed. He had a gray paw and a brown tail. Now..." Sam's words trailed off. They both stared at the rabbit, who now had four brown paws, a gray blotch over his nose, and random brown freckles across his white fur.

They were both quiet for a minute.

"Yeah, sure. Magic bunny!" Dean scoffed, starting to eat his eggs and grabbing four pieces of bacon.

Sam shook his head, but he too began to eat. Was he really that mistaken? He decided to change the subject. "So, what's with the whole livejournal thing? You going to write some fanfic yourself?" He smirked. "You could have some hot sex with some--" He suddenly choked, the dream of Dean and the big-tittied chick washing over him afresh.

"Dude, you okay?" Dean reached over and thumped Sam's back. Sitting back at Sam's nod, he said, " _No,_ , I was just...curious. It's different from Chuck, you know? He was writing what really happened. These guys, they're making up shit. All kinds of shit." He gulped some coffee. "And a lot of it is, um, well..."

"Us having sex," Sam blurted out.

Another minute of silence fell.

"Yeah." Dean got up and dumped his plate in the sink with a clatter. "Uh, I will say, these fanfic writers--they are an _inventive_ bunch. Whew."

At the thought of all the inventiveness, Sam's jeans started feeling a little tight. He'd been feeling pretty...inventive himself, if his recent dreams were any indications. He looked around nervously, his eyes finally settling on Radish, hopping around the table and sniffing everything.

"Dean..." he whispered.

Dean turned from the sink, and Sam gestured to Radish. Who now boasted a light gray coat with no spots at all.

"What the fuck..." Dean breathed. "It really is a magic bunny?" He sank into his chair. "Have you noticed anything unusual?"

 _You mean besides the incredibly erotic dreams of my brother?_ Sam though wryly. "Uh, just some really vivid dreams. No big."

Dean leaned forward, eyes alert. "Dreams? What kind of dreams? What happened in them?"

Sam fidgeted nervously. "Nothing really, just...you know, dreams. Clouds and shit."

Dean snickered. "Oh, I gotcha. _Those_ kind of dreams. Well, what would Cucumber have to do with those?"

" _Radish._ And nothing. I'm probably just kinda...well, you know."

"You mean because it's been a century since you were laid?" Dean winked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, Dean, thank you for summing that up so succinctly." He got up, shoving his chair back and scooping Radish up. "Now if you'll excuse us, I'll return to my monk's cell for some mortification with thorn branches."

Dean jumped up. "Hey! Wait a second. Are you saying that your wet dreams were unusual in some way? I mean, we all have them, right? What made these ones so different?"

Sam sighed. Apparently he wasn't getting away that easily. "They were very...very vivid. Like I was living them, not just dreaming. And they, um, they were really...like, expressive. Like of things I might really want to, um, experience." He groaned. "Jesus, I can't believe I'm even talking about this with you. We're done." He turned to exit the kitchen, but Dean moved around the table and caught his arm.

"Hang on. What if it really is the rabbit? The magic bunny giving you these wild dreams, dreams you're living in like a--a story?" He slapped the table with one hand. "Shit! That's it! I know what your magic Eggplant is!"

"Radish," replied Sam automatically. "And what?"

Dean sat down with a grin that Sam could only describe as shit-eating. "These fanfic writers, they talk about their stories and ideas all the time. They have their own slang and everything. And when an idea suddenly pops into someone's head? They call it a _plotbunny!_ They say it all the time!" He gestured to Radish, now calmly nibbling on Sam's shirt sleeve. "What you have right there? That's a plotbunny. It's giving you stories in your dreams." He waggled his eyebrows. "Sexy stories, apparently. Good job, bro."

Sam winced. "Sex stories about _us,_ Dean. I don't think that's going to get us nominated for Book of the Month Club."

Dean snorted. "Who wants that anyway? I'd rather be gettin' ladies' panties all melty-hot with our sexy antics."

"Dean, doesn't it bother you at all that we're brothers? People are writing and reading about us--as brothers, having--as you so eloquently put it--sexy antics?" He groaned. "I can't believe I even said that."

"Dude. We are hot. Right? There's no denying that. I am a major stud, and you ain't too bad yourself. So, what's not to like?"

"Yeah, thanks, Dean. I'm...I'm going to go take a nap." An idea struck him, and he extended the arm holding Radish. "Here-- _you_ take Radish. See if you have any dreams. It'll be a test. We'll know for sure then if he is a plotbunny." He gave Dean a big smile with full-on puppy eyes.

Dean frowned. "You fucker, no fair pulling the eyes on me!" He sighed and took the rabbit. "Fine. A scientific test it is. See you back here later."

Sam left, but quietly stopped just outside the door. He heard Dean mutter, "C'mon, Cauliflower. Let's see about those dreams." Snickering to himself, Sam tiptoed away.

***

Dean settled himself onto his bed, groaning with pleasure as the memory foam adjusted to his body. "Goddamn, best thing ever, Carrot." He put the bunny next to him, where it nestled into his chest and closed it eyes. "That's right, furboy. You take a little nap too, and let's see what happens in my dream, okay?" Dean closed his eyes too, murmuring, "Long legs, okay? And pretty eyes. Pretty hair too, I like to run my hands through some nice, long hair." He yawned. "Wouldn't say no to a tight little ass too." He yawned again and was out.

_Dean runs the buffing mitt over the Impala's immaculately shining side. "There you go, baby. All nice and clean." He looks up and frowns when he sees something on the hood._

_It's Sam. Sam, shirtless and splayed out across the hood, his tanned skin contrasting beautifully against the shining black finish. His face is turned away, hair fanned over it; the sun picks out the rich chestnut highlights in the dark brown strands. His chest rises and falls, and Dean finds his eyes riveted to the brown nubs atop those molded pecs, glorious curves of muscle over his deep rib cage. The dusting of dark hair narrows to a distinct trail that leads down to--_

_To Sam's groin. As Dean walks around to Baby's front, he realizes Sam is not merely shirtless--he's naked. Instead of the jeans Dean had anticipated seeing, he's confronted with Sam's deeply grooved hips, his well-defined thighs spread wide, one foot propped on Baby's bumper. In the middle of all this fleshly bounty is his dark pubic hair, clearly well-trimmed (and just when exactly does he do that? wonders Dean) but his wondering is forgotten in a moment. Sam's cock juts boldly, as if it's daring Dean to look away. It's big, which doesn't really surprise Dean--Sam is a big guy. But it's more than just big, it's beautiful. Thick, flushed dark, with a perfectly formed, fat mushroom head. It twitches under Dean's stare, as if aware of his attention, bobbing briefly before resuming its proud posture._

_"Fuck," whispers Dean. He's done some fooling around with guys, but mostly mutual handjobs; he's received a couple of blow jobs too, but that's it. Other men's pricks hadn't turned him on; it was more just convenience during a dry spell._

_This is completely different. This is glorious. He can't wait to touch it, wrap his hand around it, stroke it. He wonders what it would taste like, how it would feel inside his mouth, lying on his tongue. A tiny bead appears at the slit, and his mouth waters to lick it off. His own dick is already an iron bar in his jeans, pressing urgently against his fly, and Dean can feel his T-shirt rubbing against nipples that are now stiff and sensitive._

_He tries to remind himself that this is his brother; that these thoughts should be alien and repugnant. He fails. Sam has been his sun and his moon for their whole lives, and realizing that his feelings now include desire simply confirm that. It doesn't matter that they're blood--they're more than blood, they're each other's worlds, and sex is merely a new expression of that._

_"Sam..." he murmurs as he walked closer. "Sammy..."_

_Sam appears not to hear him. Dean watches as Sam grips his cock and begins to stroke himself firmly. His head rolls on the Impala, allowing his hair to fall away and reveal his face. His mouth is open and he's breathing hard already, eyes closed while his hand rises and falls on his dick. His other hand moves now, sliding over his chest and rolling his nipples, then gliding down to his lower belly. It massages just above the base of his cock, continuing on to the tender flesh of his inner thighs._

_Dean thinks his pants are going to burst, his eyes glued to the erotic show before him. Sam is panting softly now, hips bucking up into his fist. His hand leaves those strong thighs and delves into the valley between them. Sam lifts his feet and scootches himself up more on the Impala's hood, both braced on the hood itself. Dean can see right up between Sam's legs now; he watches fixedly while Sam rolls his balls in those long fingers, gently squeezing them. His middle finger goes lower still, teasing the pink pucker that seems to be aimed right at Dean._

_Dean can barely breathe at this point, his throat is choking on his arousal. He doesn't dare touch his fly for fear he'll shoot in his jeans then and there. Instead, he stands transfixed while Sam runs his finger around his tight hole. Dean's body vibrates at the same rhythm of Sam's hand on his cock, speeding up as Sam speeds up his strokes, ready to fly apart any second. Sam's fingertip slips into his hole, pumping in and out, and Dean sees his balls draw up tight to the base of his dick. One more pump and Sam cries out, his come fountaining up his belly, fist strangling his cock._

_It's hot enough for Dean to come just from watching, but the final tip over the edge is hearing Sam cry out "Dean!" as he comes. Dean's hips buck into the air as his own cock pulses in his jeans, flooding his boxers with his hot release. His knees buckle and he drops down, barely keeping from falling to the ground while he groans his brother's name._

Dean jolted awake, grabbing his crotch and cursing as he felt the heat of his jizz in his boxers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a wet dream at all, much less one as erotic and vivid as this. _What the fuck,_ he thought with annoyance. _Guess I need to clean the pipes more frequently._

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and then jumped as something soft tickled his thigh. Radish looked up at Dean with impassive black eyes, nose and whiskers twitching. Dean stared at it.

_Did it...was that..._

"No," he said out loud. "No...really? Did you do that?"

Radish stared back at him.

"Well, shit." Dean shook his head. He got up and waddled into the bathroom, peeling off his boxers and kicking them across the room with a grimace before he got into the shower.

***

Sam sipped on his coffee, thinking about his recent dreams. He hadn't really mentioned to Dean that those dreams involved the two of them. Or that he'd been pining after his brother most of his life.

 _Details, details,_ he thought to himself. _Probably wont even come up._

Dean walked into the kitchen, his hair still damp from a shower. Radish was perched on his shoulder, sniffing at Deans ear. "Cut it out, Mushroom." He carefully disengaged the bunny and put it on the table. Radish hopped over to Sam, who gave it a piece of corn muffin. Radish apparently approved of this, immediately starting to eat.

"So," said Sam.

"So," answered Dean. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down, studiously avoiding Sam's eyes.

"Ha! So it happened to you. What, um, what was it?" Sam tried not to sound overly interested in the content of Dean's dream. He crumbled up more of his muffin and pushed the bits at Radish.

"Yeah, ah, very vivid. I see what you mean about living it more than dreaming it." Dean crossed his legs.

"So Radish really is a plotbunny then." It sounded even crazier to admit it, but at the same time, Sam felt a little relieved that they had a name for what was going on. "What do we do about it?"

"Do? I don't think there is anything _to _do. It is what it is." Dean finally looked at Sam, and Sam was startled to see something flash in those big green eyes. Something he'd never seen before.__

___Is he--did he dream about me? Like I dreamed about him?_ _ _

__Sam sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table. "Okay, Dean. I think we have to put our cards on the table here. We know we both had incredibly hot, um, wet dreams. We know it's got to be Radish, but there's one thing we haven't talked about." He looked into Dean's eyes. "I dreamed about you, Dean. And I have a strong suspicious you dreamed about me."_ _

__"Aw, man! Do we have to talk about this?" Dean made a face._ _

__"Yes, we do. Because, frankly, if that's the case, then...then why not admit it? I mean, just to each other?" He put a hand on Dean's. "Our lives are already stuff of fiction, right? Maybe...maybe this is something good we could have." He withdrew his hand. "I mean, if you felt that way too."_ _

__Dean thought about seeing Sam splayed naked before him. He shivered and felt his cock respond energetically. Did he want this? Want Sam?_ _

__"Oh, hell yeah!" he said, reaching out to grab Sam's flannel shirt and pull his brother half across the table. Sam started to say something, but it got lost as Dean kissed him._ _

____

 

__***_ _

__A couple of hours later, they lay lounging in bed, sweaty and lazy. Dean refused to call it 'cuddling,' but he did enjoy feeling Sam's arm wrapped around him, their bodies still pressed close. They hadn't even fucked yet, and he knew that was going to be mind-blowing. The connection they already had had made sex between them the most intense and intimate he'd ever experienced._ _

__"Fuck, now I'm using words like 'intimate,' he grumbled, making Sam laugh._ _

__"You love it, dude." Sam kissed Dean's neck._ _

__Dean snorted, but he really did._ _

__They dozed a bit, and then a thought popped into Dean's head. "Hey," he said, nudging Sam with an elbow. "We should start writing our dreams on that livejournal thing. Just think how we'd blow the minds of all those fangirls and fanboys. It would be awesome."_ _

__"Hmm, yeah, maybe we should," Sam agreed amiably. "Pretty sure fanfic would never be the same, huh?"_ _

__They chuckled together._ _

__From his cozy blanket on the dresser, Radish watched them. His whiskers twitched while his fur ruffled into a pure white coat._ _

__ _ _


End file.
